Railroaded underground
we run panting, limping
from station to station. Your
words open doors to the last
safe house before freedom’s
border. Together we dine around
tables bulging with sustenance,
scented with shalom, and lit with
warm wisdom. No longer famished,
bruised, or weary we hold hands
and give thanks as our eyes reflect
light from Sabbath candle blessings.
(This is a tribute to some great men who have changed my world in every way. They all swim against the current and speak words of life. When they die, all of us will know what they were for.
Blessed are the feet of those who bring good news. I wish I could wash these feet......wet them with my tears and dry them with my hair.)
